Finch on a Tightrope
by Prewritesuccession
Summary: Amyna Finch is, and has always been, just Finch. When she is enrolled to Rikkaidai due to the undying competitiveness between her and her brother Shinji Ibu, Finch agrees to use her time "wisely" at Rikkaidai and do a little spying for Fudomine. However, when loyalties are tested and lines are drawn, Finch must decide between family or friends, and a new crush or an old affection.


_**Finch**_

"Be cautious, little sister, but then again, you're always careful. Actually, take caution but not to the usual extent of paranoia. Some of the best minds go blinded by their basic nature to flee versus the bragged desire to fight. Personally, I like to think I'd fight. There is nothing more annoying than paranoia. Also, remember-"

Finch snapped her cell phone closed. She tried not to act too irritated. That had been the third phone call since leaving the house this morning eight minutes ago. Her brother could be such a worry-wart. Well, half-brother, but Finch didn't usually nip at all the little details. After moving here three years ago, Finch had sworn Shinji was as crazy as a loon, the way he talked to himself like his thoughts had to be transmitted through his mouth to be picked up by his ears then sent to his brain unlike, a-hem, more _traditional _people whose thoughts were directly circulated through their minds.

He should stop his worrying; Finch was very good at making friends.

Besides, first day jitters were very cliché.

Nonetheless, Finch ran her fingers across her uniform a few dozen times, checked her reflection in the dark lens of the camera she kept in her pack, and shook out her silver hair, letting the locks fall back naturally into the wind-swept form she always loved. Finch carefully combed out the oddly black streaks sprouting from her roots and with one last look into the reflective surface, she gently tucked the camera back into position, strategically placed for easy access into the embroidered book bag slung across her shoulder.

Finch gave herself a mental pat down. She was here on a mission. A mission to gain intelligence on fellow peers and learn weaknesses in their tennis plays. Usually Shinji wouldn't ask such a thing, but Finch had already been enrolled at Rikkaidai instead of Fudomine out of "sibling rivalry." It was true; Finch and Shinji were _extremely _competitive when it came to school, sports..._everything. _So much that it seemed they had to be put a school apart. But that was just peachy with Finch.

Plus, Finch was totally fine with the new arrangement; she had already taken a fancy to the idea of herself being a spy. An agent on the inside. Besides, she wouldn't become attached to the players. The Fudomine boys' tennis team, known fondly to her as just 'the guys,' were her friends. She smiled. Also, certain things could change if she saw this through.

_Certain things. _

Finch blew out of her mouth and opened the door to eternity; the door to her future; the basis of her relationship with...certain people on her brother's tennis team.

She blushed just thinking about it.

In the classroom there were neat rows of desks, spacious windows, neatly organized books and shelve supplies, and a chalk board full of neat kanji. The teacher wrote characters on the board and the students took notes quietly, once in a while giving a cough or sniff. Finch did a double take and checked the door-plate again. No _way _this was a _ninth_-grade class.

Back at her old school in Los Alamos, her classes had been full of cliquey girls and perverted guys who doodled profanity and carved certain images into the desks. No, this wasn't the same as that at _all_. Finch knocked quietly on the frame of the door to alert them of her presence. The teacher examined her under her square-rimmed glasses before smiling and gestured her over warmly in front of the class.

"Hello, you must be the new student, please introduce yourself." Her new peers glanced up at their newest arrival. Finch smiled her most passive smile despite her nerves and offered them a small wave.

"Hi, I'm Amyna Finch." She grinned for real. "But people usually just call me Finch." Even though it was honorifics in Japan to call people by their "family name," even in Los Alamos did she insist people to just address her as her last name, 'Finch.' Amyna felt a little too..._formal _to her; it felt like she carried a title with false grandeur that Finch couldn't even fake. So Finch was just _Finch_. And ever since first grade, it had stuck.

"I'm from Los Alamos, New Mexico," she stated. "I have an older brother and one younger sister, can't remember a birthday to save my life, and think pickles are just about the most disgusting food I've ever tasted." Finch paused before continuing again. "Coincidently, pickles are my brother's favorite food." She smiled sweetly. "I fill his pickle jars with cucumbers." She laughed at the faces of her peers. They all looked at her like Finch was a maniac. _But let them believe what they believe,_ she thought, strangely giddy. Perhaps it was because of the fact that she _could _act crazy that Finch felt comfortable with the strange looks. She was staying for one year to observe. Then she would never see them again!

The teacher blinked before checking her list again and giving Finch an uneasy smile. "Alright, dear, why don't you take a seat next to..." she glanced around the room and pointed at one of the empty seats near the window and shelves of supplies. "Next to Renji." She gestured at a boy with bob-cut brown-hair who promptly stood. Finch nodded with thanks and sat in the cold desk, taking out her pencil bag and binder. As she flung her bag across the back of her chair, she felt that Renji guy watching her.

The teacher was writing on the board again; everyone else was busy scribbling the notes down. She pulled out a fresh notebook and started copying the notes, ignoring the guy's inquisitive glance. He didn't stop watching. Finch uncomfortably turned from her page. "May I help you?" Renji's closed eyes didn't shift, but he did turn away.

"I am sorry. I thought you looked familiar." Finch shrugged it off and finished the writing.

Her morning classes were easy, her having a private tutor the second she arrived in Japan in fear of her being "a stupid American child." Ah, well. Now she was a _smart _American/Japanese child. At lunch, Finch took her tray and carefully decided where to sit. She could sit alone, but that would waste valuable time at disestablishing her reputation as "new girl." She could directly look for the boys' tennis team, but that would be too straight-forward to just sit with them. Finch turned in the room, unsure, before her eyes focused on a boy.

He sat alone at a table in front of his lunch tray. His straight black hair barely reached past his ear and his chin was rigid into an expression of stern grumpiness. Finch smiled. Perfect. She flipped her long silver hair over a shoulder and placed a warm smile onto her lips. Finch knew (to her annoyance) that she was, in short, quite pretty. She disliked how people would underestimate her because of that, but she realized that it was a great way to make friends. Well, use her looks more like as a _prop _to make friends. First impressions were pretty important.

Finch noted how everyone avoided the table where he sat. This was the only table that wasn't full of students. She wondered why no one would sit with him when a girl Finch recognized to be in her class ran up and touched her shoulder.

"Hi, I'm Aresu Takahashi," she quickly explained. "Hey, I just saw you looking at the table where Sanada's sitting," Aresu stated, looking at Finch with wide brown eyes. "The boys' tennis team sits there every day." Finch blinked and Aresu looked at her incredulously. "Every day. That's _their _table." Aresu stretched that word with a bob of her head and a whip of her bright green pigtails.

Finch supposed this was supposed to be intimidating, but instead, to Aresu's surprise, she laughed. "Well, unless they have a permit, I don't really care, but thanks for the warning." Aresu paled and nodded grimly like this was the beginning of Finch's death march.

"But just beware of Kumiko Fujiwara," Aresu warned, giving a tiny gesture at a group of girls sitting at the table next to where the boy named Sanada sat, giggling and glancing over at him not-so-discreetly. A girl with pretty, strawberry-blonde locks sat with everyone else around near, almost leaning in. Finch supposed this must've been Kumiko. She turned back to Aresu.

"Well, what's so scary-" But Aresu was gone like a phantom, never known to affiliate with the new girl. Finch shrugged and she walked over to the boy, greeting him with a kind smile and gesturing at the seat next to him.

"Hi, I'm Finch, may I sit here?" The guy looked up at her then back at his unopened lunch package.

"Yes."

Finch frowned at his lack of friendliness. He hadn't said _no_, but a simple 'yes' was a level down from, say, _of course_ or _yes, please do_ or even a shift of his lunch tray and a smile. Finch had learned greetings were a large part of the level of general earnest welcome. A simple 'yes' was down in the _I'm polite but I secretly rather you didn't _category along with things like _no, thanks _and _oh, sorry, but I hate you_. Finch placed her tray gently onto the table. Perhaps he was preoccupied or just naturally curt.

Before she could think of anymore possible explanations, a group of guys walked out of the lunch line with their trays in strange formation. Finch felt like she was meeting someone famous. The aisles were cleared, heads turned, and the girls (especially Kumiko Fujiwara) screamed. Finch was deciding between booing or laughing when they turned and started walking to the empty table. _The tennis Regulars, _Finch decided. Pretending not to be too interested, Finch took out her bento and unwrapped her utensils, laying them neatly onto her napkin.

Soon the clattering of a half-dozen trays on their table reached her ears and Finch looked up. There was Renji, from her homeroom class, a boy with bright magenta hair and pink eyes (what a strange genetic code), a guy with spiky silver hair and a Cheshire-cat smile, one with wavy blue hair and soft eyes, a boy with purple hair and pristinely shiny glasses, another guy with bright green eyes and ruffled black hair, and finally one tan-skinned and bald.

Even though Finch itched to start introducing herself, she decided to play it safe and wait until she was addressed. Instead, she observed them eat and arrange their utensils. Some like the messy-black-haired and pink-eyes tore open their packages and dug in. Others like Sanada, the bald dude, the shiny-lenses kid and blue-head carefully placed their lids underneath the boxes, then set out their napkins and placed their chopsticks and spoon neatly before starting. And finally was the Cheshire-smiley who opened the box gingerly but ripped the utensils open and ate quickly. He looked up and met Finch's analytical gaze. She quickly gave a start but didn't look away.

The boy's mouth was full of food. "Who're you?" Finch blinked as everyone started looking up from their food. She calmed herself and smiled. This was the first step in slipping into their games.

"I'm Finch," the guys blinked. "_Just _Finch," she added. "I'm a new student here at Rikkaidai." She paused and Renji cracked the ghost of the ghost of a smile.

"She hates pickles."

Finch laughed. "Yeah. Pickles, peanuts, peas," she paused with a cringe. "And alliteration." They blinked at her again, which made her smile. "I'm not really as crazy as I may seem," she whispered like it was a deep secret. Some cracked a smile. Finch pointed at Cheshire-smiley. "You're turn."

"Niou Masaharu," he stated, swallowing the food in his open mouth.

"I am Hiroshi Yagyuu," shiny-lens said matter-of-factly.

"I am Yukimura Seiichi," soft-eyes said quietly. He turned to mess-of-a-hair-do and chuckled as he made an effort to swallow the mouthful of food he had just shoved in there. "And this is Kirihara Akaya who is making a valiant effort to introduce himself." He pointed at his full mouth and Finch smiled.

"Don't hurt yourself. I'm not _that _interesting." Yukimura chuckled.

"Bunta Murai," magenta-hair said around the spoon in his mouth.

"I am Kuwahara Jackal," the bald dude said.

Next was Renji who nodded in greeting at Finch. "I am Renji Yanagi, I don't believe we've formally met before." Finch smiled then turned to Sanada.

"And you are?"

He looked surprised at being addressed, but quickly regained his stoic composure. "Sanada Genichirou," he stated. "And I am not meaning to be rude and we enjoy your company, but may I ask why you sat here with me?" Sanada didn't say it out loud, but I knew he was thinking it. _I'm very intimidating. _

Finch gave a trill of laughter. "Well, for one thing, yours was the only table empty." His cheeks turned the palest shade of red.

"I was holding seats for my teammates, but no one ever seems to realize there is always one extra seat," he mumbled into his rice. Finch felt a grin tug the corners of her mouth.

"It seems you all have quite the reputation," she stated, propping her elbow onto the table and cradling her chin. Finch loved this position; whichever way she looked, it seemed she was cocking her head in a teasing, innocent fashion and a little friendly banter never killed anyone. Plus, it was comfortable. "Clearing aisles," Finch continued. "Screaming girls," she smirked. "And Aresu even mentioned how this was _your table_." Yukimura chuckled again.

"Habits form." He watched Finch curiously. "And what brings you to _our table_?" Finch shrugged and turned back to her food.

"Sibling rivalry, general curiosity, and my often tragically misunderstood disposition." Finch tried to keep it light so she smiled again. "And I am very anti-status quo." She frowned. "And may I ask what makes this _your _table? I think people own nothing they actually 'own' because who lives forever?" Finch violently stabbed her chopsticks into her rice. "It's never _yours _to begin with, it's never _yours _when you die. After you receive jewelry from 'Great Aunt Jane' is it still _her _necklace or anklet or whatever? No! It's _yours _but after you die and give it to your kid, then it's now _theirs_! See, all this ownership stuff is stupid and ludicrous and totally not logical. I mean seriously, you don't live forever, so nothing is technically yours. Everything is very free-flow, and I'm not saying go steal things from people on the grounds that it's not theirs, because it's not _yours _either. Plus, titles are a waste of time and energy-"

Finch paused. The guys were all watching her, along with the people at the surrounding tables, frozen and watching her with wide-eyes. She realized she must've been talking rather loudly, because even Aresu, half-way across the room was staring at Finch looking scared. Finch would've blushed at the attention, but she wasn't regretting the words she had said. She settled down and took a deep breath, dropping her voice just above a whisper.

"I'm also very easily excited." She laughed quietly to herself. She was becoming Shinji, but instead of muttering, Finch was practically yelling. She found it ironic. Perhaps _she _was the loon, not him.

Gradually conversation began again, but Finch ate in silence. It was rather funny.

"You're the strangest girl I've ever met," Yukimura said, his eyes never leaving her. But he smiled. "Don't worry that's a good thing." Finch laughed again and marveled at how many times she had laughed today. And how nice it felt.

"Thank you." Finch furrowed her eyebrows. "You know, at my old school back in New Mexico, everyone told me stop pitching my ideas and being ridiculous." She shrugged and took another spoonful of rice. "But when everyone asked to be my partner for some academic project," Finch swallowed and pointed her spoon in fake accusation at Kirihara who gave a start when she pointed him out. "That's exactly what I said to them." She slammed the empty container down onto her tray and squinted at them. "'Stop being ridiculous.'" Finch shook her head and stood to dump her trash.

She bit her lip as she walked to the trash can. She had a bad habit of not stopping talking. _They think I'm crazy, _Finch thought. _They think I'm drunk. _For some reason, she found this thought hilarious and let the trash container close on her fingers. _This is serious, _she thought furiously, rubbing her sore fingers. _Calm head and try to undo the damage already done. Tell them you have a secret evil twin who runs around and causes you chaos. Tell them you're pregnant and the hormones have been driving you up the wall every Thursday. _Finch gave a quiet groan of frustration.

_But it's Monday! _

As she approached the table, Kumiko Fujiwara stood from her clique and strolled over quickly to the boys, slinking into Finch's seat with a twirl of a lock of her golden hair. She batted her eyelashes at Kirihara.

"Hey, Kirihara." He looked up at her with surprise. Finch rolled her eyes. _Men were so oblivious. _Kumiko leisurely placed her elbows on the table and smiled sweetly with her lip-gloss smile at him. "I didn't understand a _word _of what the English professor was saying," she twinkled. "I thought, because you're so _amazing _at English, you'd like to help me." Kirihara reddened with discomfort.

"Erm...actually, I-"

"He deeply apologizes but Akaya's English grades are less than satisfactory and he himself is being tutored," shiny-lens...I mean, Hiroshi, stated firmly. Kumiko glared at him under her dark eyelashes but kept her voice pleasant.

"Well," she breathed. "Isn't that a coincidence." Finch gave a secret victory dance and strolled over, leaning up casually against the back of the chair.

"Getting cozy?" Finch put as much secret enjoyment and smugness as she could into her eyes, if not her words. Hikari glared up with her icy blue eyes.

"May...I...help...you?" She punctuated each syllable through clenched teeth, each word drenched in mock-politeness. But Finch got the message: Hikari was not budging from that chair. Yukimura opened his mouth to speak.

"Actually, that seat-" Finch put up a hand to silence him.

"No, no," she replied pleasantly. "After all my fuss about ownership, that is not _my _seat." Finch looked around the cafeteria but already knew which seat she was looking for. "Please, enjoy." she bowed to Hikari whose face was red and bewildered. Finch strolled leisurely over to the next table, and sat, cozying herself up with the girls who sat watching her with awe. Hikari's clique. Finch smiled warmly at their blank faces and managed to strike up a conversation about their common liking of romantic movies.

Even though they were more comedy/hunky guy who takes his shirt off while Finch was tragedy/opposites attract, they still talked and laughed and Finch secretly watched Hikari's face turn redder and redder until Finch took pity and stood, coming and whispering not-so-quietly into her ear.

"Would you like to sit there now?" Hikari nodded, blotchy-faced, and glaring holes into the ground. She stood and shakily walked over, sitting down still red. Finch collapsed into the chair, watching Hikari with a mixture of amusement, guilt, and pity. When Finch looked back at the guys, they were watching her, a secret smile on each of their faces. (okay, not Sanada, but did he _ever_ smile?)

"How did you talk to Hikari's friends?" Bunta asked incredulously. Finch laughed because of how impressed he seemed.

"It wasn't that hard," she shrugged then leaned closer with a smile. "Plus, 500 Days of Summer brings everyone together." They laughed and Finch smiled in self-satisfaction. They exchanged a look, then Yukimura smiled at Finch.

"Why don't you come for our practice tonight," he said, gentle eyes welcoming. Finch coked her head. _Tennis practice? _She gave a start at the realization. _Tennis practice! Her mission, Shinji, certain people..._Finch nodded and slowly smiled.

"I'd love to."


End file.
